Panem et Ludem
by Amalthea2
Summary: What is freedom worth? Two species are enslaved in the coliseum and set against each other for the enjoyment of the third, which of them will cry for freedom?


Panem et Ludem by Calley Smith

The chains wrenched back and forth with the hatred of the undefeated. Silicon sweat drizzled down every inch of its skin surface, hitting the sand covered floor with hard plinks that made a symphony akin to stalagmites raining in the deepest reaches of the earth. But this was not the earth, nor was it the home of the caged beast heaving and straining against the compound shackles. It wanted out so bad it bled, but to no avail. The adept captors took special precautions to deter self-mutilation, coating the floors and unbreakable pulley strung manacles in such a way to retard any amount of acid the creature might try to emit. Even the drainpipe going all the way down to a strategically designed pit was carved with care, to ensure the resulting gases from the reaction could not ignite or explode the underground tank. Every hypothetical situation was analyzed and technology was infused in each nook and cranny to prevent any possible escape, save one scenario.

After a few weeks of life, Ludem had become the most notorious killer among his race, recent accomplishments earning special seats in the detailed records of the Yautja clan, Harena. He was sharp and attentive, and no opportunity passed him by that could have been acted on, save the one that continued to be risky and available after every fight. When the sand was filled with acid and hemoglobin so much that it glowed in spatters and patterns that could be viewed clearly from even the cheapest seats, there was an opening. As the crowd was thrown into a berserk uproar, his inverted vision became ensnared on an intense light source, a grate situated above the human's entrance. Deep, and dark, and unguarded for just long enough he noticed after cautious inspection. This would be his last fight, he hoped, but little did he know that his present owners had become very bored with his fame and wanted to have a hero from the Harena clan rise up and be celebrated, as it was supposed to be. Xenomorphs were not supposed to survive longer than a week or so in the Coliseum, and Ludem had unintentionally overstayed his welcome.

A profoundly deep and boisterous roar came out with great force from the throat of the hero. Her skin was orange like the surface of a rusty moon, with cat patterns trailing down black and sharp like her talons. Taut fishnets were strung over every surface the heavy greased rawhide plates weren't. The concentration of this armor was across the shoulders and down the ribcage, with studs, bones, spikes, and huge feathers used to intimidate a creature that could not be frightened. She knew it, behind the thick mask, her quarry had no feelings or fears, but in the coliseum your value as a being was in the spectacle you aroused. The 10 feet of meticulously crafted spear she held with utmost confidence, however, was not just for show. Shining fiercely, cut far sharper than any human technology could allow and coated to save it from the blistering blood, it was wrought for one purpose. The purpose was now unleashing a shrill war cry and taking its stand.

His'rakk lumbered forward a few paces as the crowd was going ballistic, exchanging bets and tidbits of information about the contestants. Sexy enslaved humans were moving up and down the aisles, distributing colorful drinks and lap dances in exchange for not having to fight, but they seemed to be loving it either way. Elektra was climbing up the side of the sky and casting hot lashes of starlight across the playing field, glinting angrily on the golden beads in the hero's hair, the oozing sweat streaks on the champion's skin, and the grains of coarse sand under both of their feet. Ludem glanced quickly at his prospective escape route, and built up the resolve for a monstrous pounce. His'rakk stepped back and drew up her spear in defense, but blood was drawn and it began dripping bright green droplets into the freshly raked sand, sending the audience into a boisterous frenzy. The xenomorph was not able to jerk backwards off of her hard enough to avoid her retaliation, which came in to form of an unbreakable grip on his left shoulder. He screamed, and lashed out with his other hand not paying enough attention to where he was tearing. Claws skidded over hard, slick armor and went nowhere. Before she could throw him to the ground, however, a joyous chant from the crowd told her humans were being released into the fray. There must have been important figures at this session too, because they were armed to the teeth with submachine guns and primitive flamethrowers. Some of the men who had been lower ranking technicians were given only simple knives and machetes because they couldn't operate the firearms. They swarmed in a great mass, shouting the usual sweet nothings of, "If we work together we can get the hell out of here!" and, "I got your ass if you've got mine!" She smiled, shoved the alien into the way of the shrieking men, and sat back to see what he would do.

An irritated hiss was muffled between his gnashed teeth. He didn't want anything to do with these unnecessary distractions, he had never preferred the taste of human flesh and there was little inclination to waste time on putting them down. Backing up slowly enough for his true enemy not to notice, he let his tail rip through the over confident man who sprinted up first sending the first wave of red blood in a wide arch around him. Sensing them by the outline of their pheromones, he did not hesitate to dismember any section of the mob that got too close. Without any pause, he continued a swing he had trained on the torso of a skinny youth all the way around himself, laying it into the side of the bemused predator with all his might. She had been expecting it, and had the lance pointed dead center as he came around, but she had not been expecting a jagged edged tail to emerge through her ribcage and cut off all feeling to her arms. As the dumbstruck favorite was rendered immobile the tip of Ludem's tail sailed through her midsection, splitting the halves apart like a cheap dry log. Their hero desecrated, the crowd came together with one voice of horror and repulsion. Drug induced mob mentality was cut short as the slayer was revealed from behind the shredded carcass. Her name was Panem, and she was hungry.

There was an upheaval of confusion and switched tactics being murmured around the band of humans, scuffling and freaking out about the second xeno that had been sent in, unbeknownst to the late His'Rakk. Ludem had turned to her, to register her pheromones and determine if she was from a friendly brood bitch, but she was off like a bolt. Her body moved shakily like a half starved lioness mother, but surely because she knew the prey was stupid. On all fours, springing forward as far as she could and then thrusting down hard into the sand to gain leverage, she was like a beautiful wildcat. The boys scattered and darted to get the hell out of the way, but they weren't going to and the observing predators knew it so well. There is no bigger joke among Yautja then a human's skill at defending itself. They erupted in a joygasm when she broke on the designated sacrifice's numbers with ravenous bliss, leaving Ludem to look on at the carnage unable to get a slash in edgewise. She became airborne, and began to suckle on black mans chest with her needle sharp fangs. That man had plenty of time to lose the favor of his god with his dying remarks. After consuming the contents of his rib cavity, she pounced on a fleeing boy and crushed his back in with the sheer force of her lunge. Her lips peeled back to reveal the emerging headsnatcher, and with a noise like boulders colliding he was decapitated.

Ludem shook off his trance like state like that when he got close enough to smell her, breaking out in playful attempts to get her attention when he realized they were related. Not just related, an onlooker would note that they looked nearly identical in age and maturity, and that they had been conceived under natural conditions. Their eggs had been stolen from an organic clutch, an original queen, and one of the strongest strains imaginable. They were no weak breeds.

She took no notice to his elaborate death dances with the remaining humans, who threw hundreds of bullets and buckets of napalm at him with frantic inaccuracy. He got sloppy too, in his attempts to convey his identity, and took a few flesh wounds that should have been avoiding, sending flicks of acid into the skin of incoming men and making them howl with agony to the delight of the sadistic audience. The man who had landed most of the shots squared off with him to the left, smartly dropping his powerful gun and snatching up a fallen mans flamethrower so as not to invoke more deadly spatter. He let the heat fly, sending licks in direction the xenomorph could have been found in… several moments ago. A sensual hiss tickled his left ear just before his entire skull was sucked off with a crack. Even in death his finger held fast on the trigger, and the alien squealed as one of his dripping open wounds was cauterized and patches of silicon skin around them bubbled and peeled open only to pull together again when he jumped away and rolled in the sand. Large patches looked like they had fault lines crackling through them. Ludem was pissed.

After decimating two thirds of the space marines, her frenzied hunger soothed just enough; Panem came to recognize the danger the four remaining hardened troopers posed. She smelled her brothers blood, and recognized him for the first time, but it was too late to work together with him because the soldiers were backing her into the coliseum wall, dangerously close to being in range of the fully automatics. Baring her teeth, and glancing all around for an opening, it began to occur to her that this was not how she wanted to be freed. She had watched other xenomorphs being taken from their carefully guarded chambers and thrown out into the open sand, and none from her block were ever returned to their chains. Feeling the patches of sand that had been fused together by the burning blood beneath her feet, she was no longer hungry and did not want to fight the doped up sergeants. Her eyes became fixed on the bright light above the human compound, and she sent all of her will down her hamstrings. The marines had edged close enough and now opened fire, pulling the angle up to shoot her out of the air. Metal met highly compressed sandstone and sent thousands of dancing sparks up; earning oohs and aahs from the ever-present spectators. She pulled her eyes shut, and let herself go as the bullets were coming up to meet her. Three of the streams were thrown in totally different directions as her brother barreled into the gunman, the fourth was caught off guard and moved to protect himself from the grounded monster, only to be crushed by the airborne one who had miscalculated the height necessary to sail over the tallest attacker. Claws were slashing outwards sloppily to keep them from getting up, sending blood trails in all directions. The field looked like a couple cats had broken into a little old ladies Christmas themed knitting kit and partied till the break of dawn with it.

Their heads jerked up in unison as the final applause became deafening. The narrow window of opportunity was at hand, and Ludem made a break for it. He was limping, but he could still jump the necessary twelve feet up to the vent grate and smash it open with his tail. The crowd shrieked and fell into chaos as he climbed in, followed closely by his sister. Coliseum staff were already on scene to detain them, but they were too far down the shaft to retrieve. People were told to evacuate, and all emergency teams were on hand, but the crowds were too frightened to save their own skins, and several deaths occurred due to trampling…

No chains clanked in the human quarters, they were not necessary. Beneath them, the pair could hear men yelling and exploding at each other, then laughing madly at nothing in particular. The farther back they went, the less drugged and the more angry the people were. Trying to shift their weight quietly despite injuries and hindrances of the filthy dander and vermin clogged vents; they made only tiny clinking noises with their claws against the cheap metal. A couple men were grunting and feverish thudding noises emanated from a cell to their left. It was hard for them to breathe, the air was rank with putrid male pheromones, until their path took a sharp turn to the left and they entered the separate female blocks. They were weeping and carrying on for the most part, but some were taking charge and telling the others to shut it. Those were the woman veterans, who surprisingly outnumber the male survivors. Women marines were hard to come by, and they were kept specially due to their impressive show quality. Their cells had extra luxuries, padded mats to sleep on, limited fresh running water for hygiene, and even more depending on their victories. Human cells were arranged so that good performers got perks, to further urge their reckless bloodlust, but for the most part people didn't refuse to fight. Its as if they genuinely settled for the exchange of showy murder for slightly better accommodations. There were no such perks for xenomorphs.

All at once, the section of metal they were perched on gave way, and they tumbled into the cell below with a volley of shrieks. The women gathered around them, dressed in flashy scanty armor, high as can be. These must have been the batch prepared for the match to come up next. There had to be some pretty impressive Yautja in the crowd today. One of them, Marsha, called Mars since the day she won her first match, was the matron of the cellblock. She had won several times, earning her extra drugs and food to urge her on. One of the high-ranking officers had even deemed her worthy of sleeping with him in between big matches. She was the queen bitch around these parts, with bright red hair plaited tightly by the other girls who worshipped her, and traditional Yautja golden bracelets and neck adornments, gifted to her along with match set up favors by her consort who intended to buy her after this next fight. Her glazed brown eyes stared blankly at the newcomers as they scrambled over to the doors and busted the bars wide open with powerful strokes of their claws. The girls gathered around the jagged opening, looking to each other and slurring questions pertaining to their newly gained freedom, in the end wandering a ways down the hall to the room where the pills were kept and stumbling inside.

Several moments later a heavily armed squad of Yautja stormed through the halls, following the damage through the girl's quarters panicking for a moment when it was discovered they'd escaped. The panic was muffled when they rounded the corner and came upon the drug ration room, whose attendant had been off duty. "MARS!" The head officer bellowed in vain, clutching her cold stiff form to him and burying his head in her ghastly white shoulder. All of the other girls were strewn about the room in a similar overdosed state, appearing like pale porcelain dolls in fancy war garb and hauntingly ecstatic smiles etched permanently into their features. That's about as free as they would ever have a chance to be, so it goes.

Softly, softly, quietly as they could muster they crept side by side on the ceiling, not knowing that they were headed to the place between man and alien, the large hall that separated the two and joined them in holy matrimony at the same time. The loading docks that had led them as infants to this horrible place lay at the mouth, the entrance, the exit, their only way out, and a large chamber to the left of this hall was the one place they never wanted to find themselves again. But they did. Not knowing the way, they went right into it. Words of warning were scrawled in red Yautja characters all over the walls and each container had its own set of careful handling instructions. Ludem's curiosity got the better of him, more out of playfulness than desire to learn, and he accidentally on purpose dumped some of the bulky canisters onto the hard floor. Some burst open, their contents rolling out across the floor until they met the wall with a soft thud. Ludem stopped dead still in his tracks, recognizing the cargo at once, being struck with the recognition of his own means of birth. Panem had watched the whole thing, and now was staring open mouthed at the huge expanse of specially cooled containers.

Without warning, Ludem reared up in front of her and began smashing the boxes apart, releasing dozens of eggs to be sprawled on the floor. As he did, the instinct in her was appalled, and she began setting them carefully upright, using the special substance all xenomorphs secreted to cement them to the floor in chaotic bunches. With most of the boxes mutilated, some of the eggs ruined in the process and bleeding onto the floor, the champion of games let out a cry of suffering, and all the patrolling predator officers knew at once where to go. As they approached, Panem noticed the tops of the ovules peeling back like serene lotus petals, and when they stormed in ready to torch the lot, the embryos freaked. Like cicadas in heat, they sprang from their unnaturally prolonged casing and took to the air, landing on the faces of the horror ravaged Yautja, hugging them with the grim reapers death grip.

Elektra was setting when they furtively flew, unopposed, through the entryway of the great hall. The place had been thoroughly evacuated, kudos to them for being able so save their own skins for the most part, wasteful though. Word had been sent to the nearest military fleet, and they were ready to proceed with plan R. They were surprised, however, that such a high-class establishment would be suffering from an outbreak. One of their most respected veteran officers was stationed on the planet of the Harena, and whenever he visited he seemed to be quite confident with the fortifications.

"Such a shame to blow it all to smithereens." Thought the captain as he made all the appropriate calls and adjustments. His protocol was interrupted, however, by having to answer an emergency call from one of the Harena's escape pods.

"General Bilri'vaag, I'm so glad you got out of there! Plan R is well under way, the emperor showed no interest in keeping it as a breeder planet, it would be in everyone's best interest to go through with the plan. How is that slave of yours? Dead? You weren't able to bring her? Overdosed? Oh, I'm so sorry comrade; those humans take everything so for granted! Don't worry, you can always find another fight winning bitch, or hey, here's an idea, stick to your own species! I'm just kidding, I can understand your attraction… What's that you say? You think you got stuck accidentally in the drug room? Well what is it you can't remember? That's nonsense, I'm sure it was just the adrenaline that fuzzed up the details on your escape, don't worry so much your alive! Yes, Ill have you come right in, granting clearance for bay five…"

"There you are, so tell me Bilri'vaag why did you have to bail over a couple drones?"

"After the main incident, when the emergency teams were sent out, one of the teams was found fleeing from the xenomorph holding pens because one of the expensive praetorians from L12 actually broke through the compound shackles! We couldn't go back in to figure out how but it managed to send off the worst case scenario of a chain reaction and dozens were loose before more experienced teams could be sent in. We had to get the hell out of their chief, we were overrun so…"

"Bilri, BILRI'VAAG! What's wrong man! Are you having a heart attack?"

The officer's train of excuses was interrupted by a searing pain in his chest, escalating into the actual splitting of his sternum in a spew of green blood. Pure terror was painted on the face of the chief, and comprehension of the severity of his comrade's condition came much, much too late. With another flurry of blood, a tiny snakelike creature rose from the mutilated chest cavity with a shrill squeak welcomed by the world. After a couple moments looking at the chief, the tiny creature deemed him edible and made a lunge for the throat with little razor like teeth. Voices were freaking out across all of the radios, flashing lights and code red alarms being sent off across screens and buttons all around the control room. After eating its fill, the chestburster slithered off to some dark corner where it could incubate. Unbeknownst to it, its freedom loving parents had also boarded, and were waiting in their own dark corner for the fruits of their labor to carry them home.


End file.
